Never Use Home Highlight Kits
by BatThing
Summary: Ok, now I have a reveiw! *smiles* Sorry Ronica!


"We didn't light the fire, no we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it, we didn't light the fire, its been burning since the worlds been turning." *Billy Joel ~We Didn't Start the Fire~  
  
Never Use Home Highlight Kits.  
  
*By: The Batthing  
  
**Idea inspired from: RonicaJoxer, the torturer of the month!  
  
.This story is for. Mr. Michael Jansen.  
  
"Shut." Dick Grayson hissed as he held in his hand a: 'Do It at Home' highlights kit. "Up."  
  
Tim Drake squirmed in his chair, feeling an odd sensation that they were making a mistake. "This is. stupid Dick."  
  
Dick sneered at the comment. "Now you tell me?"  
  
"Now I tell you. I mean, what'll Bruce say? He might not let us go out as."  
  
"As Nightwing and Robin?"  
  
"Duh." The comment was fast and sharp. "I mean, we have black hair. I don't think highlights will work on us."  
  
Dick shrugged, and then began to shake his head. "Fine, it was your idea!"  
  
Tim jerked around. "MY idea! Liar, liar, liar! You told me that it was something to do and I simply agreed!"  
  
Dick stepped back, placing a hand across his chest, giving a hurt expression. "Me?"  
  
"You!"  
  
"Heh, so what?"  
  
Tim groaned as he got to his feet. "I always knew it was a stupid idea! We should have stuck with my idea!"  
  
"What? Watch Alfred cook chicken for dinner? No thank you!"  
  
Tim rolled his eyes in an annoyed expression. "Not just that, he was going to show me how to make Jell-O!"  
  
"You and your Jell-O."  
  
"It's better than chicken!"  
  
"I eat healthy!"  
  
"You also lie!"  
  
"You'd burn the Jell-O anyways."  
  
"Like that is possible."  
  
Dick nodded, and frowned. "Ok, ok, I am sorry. you are right, this stuff." He held the brush with the solution over it high. "It's a bad idea."  
  
Tim nodded. "I am glad you agree."  
  
Dick smiled, nodding back. He then jerked forward, slashing the brush out like a dagger and pushing it against Tim's hair. "Oops!"  
  
"Ohmygosh!" Tim let out as his jaw dropped and he looked at Dick with pure anger. "I am telling!"  
  
"So? What is your point?"  
  
Tim leapt on the older boy, knocking him down. "YOU!" He grabbed the brush and shoved it forward, smearing the solution over Dick's own hair. "TAKE IT!"  
  
Dick kicked the boy in the side lightly, and scrambled to his feet. "M-my hair!"  
  
"Yeah." Tim growled, feeling his own hair. "The hair.crap!"  
  
Dick shook his head. "This better wash right out BoyLoser."  
  
"You're telling me?"  
  
"I'm telling you!"  
  
Tim gave a sad look and pushed both hands through his thick black hair, which was beginning to have an odd brownish tint to it. "It's your fault."  
  
"It's always my fault."  
  
"I think you are spoiled Dick."  
  
(One hour later)  
  
Bruce hated work at times, especially when he had to act more and more like the clueless playboy with no sense. But there was one thing that he looked forward too, and that was coming home to peace. Home to where he could go to his night job, a routine that he had upheld without waver.  
  
He entered the large doors and looked around suspiciously, seeing no one in sight, not even Alfred who was lead, each day, to take Bruce's jacket and ask the usual question: 'How was work today sir?'  
  
"Alfred?" Bruce questioned in a low voice, knowing with all his heart that this was leading to some sticky situation that would lead to. The Boys. "Heaven help me." The large man hissed as he hung up his own jacket and slyly, with little noise, made his way to the next room, listening for anyone. "What have they done this time?"  
  
To answer his question he got a cry of pain. of need.  
  
Bruce shook his head, wondering if it was a prank, something that happened oddly too much now a day, or was it really someone in need? The man moved across the room, and towards the kitchen where another groan was emitted. "Hello?"  
  
He received silence, dreaded silence that did little to answer his question.  
  
He placed a hand on the door, and pushed it open, sliding in and gasping. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"  
  
"Bruce! Heh, it was Tim!" Dick sat in a chair, beside him stood Tim, and behind Dick was Alfred, working on the boy's hair.  
  
"Liar, liar, you always put the blame on me! It's his fault."  
  
Bruce looked on the two, terror in his eyes. "Y-you ruined your ha-hair!"  
  
The two had an odd color of brown instead of their once proud black.  
  
"Um, that's not the point Bruce." Dick managed as he licked his lips. "Besides that doesn't matter. It was total accident, and personally. I think Tim looks great with the hair style."  
  
"You're only saying that to cover up the blame!" Tim sneered, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"So what twerp! Sit down and let me take care of this!"  
  
Tim sat down, and shook his head. "Stupid."  
  
"Please, have some of that yummy Jell-O Tim made." Dick suggested, jerking his head towards the table where a tray sat, and in it was something black. "It's slightly burnt."  
  
Alfred grumbled at the sudden movement. "Please young master, hold still."  
  
"Only cause Dick put the timer in the oven with the Jell-O!" Tim snapped as he blinked at the other boy.  
  
"Accident."  
  
"You wanted me to burn it!"  
  
"Now you are lying! Hippocratic! Haven't you heard?"  
  
"Heard what?"  
  
"That a Hipp-o-cratic ain't hip wit' it?" Dick went into a spur of laughter, yet stopped, seeing Bruce's firm expression. "Yeah, well, Babs told me that a year or so ago."  
  
"You are probably lying."  
  
Bruce turned around. "Alfred, I am going into the cave." Then with that, he left.  
  
Alfred nodded, jerking lightly on Dick's hair. "What was the lesson learned young masters?"  
  
Dick looked at Tim and smiled. "Don't use an at home highlight kit!"  
  
Tim smiled despite himself. "Get a professional!"  
  
  
  
~Yeah well, I know it sucks, and I know that. but I was talking to RonicaJoxer about her hair mistake when she used her 'at home' highlights kit and turned her black hair black. so there is where the blame should go *sneers towards Joxer 'Holy half eaten chicken Ronica! Or, how about this one, I read this from a fanfic: Holy hole in a doughnut Batman!* Don't put the blame on me!!!!!~  
  
*Sorry about that Ronica, heh, at least now I got it right! -Casity 


End file.
